


You Made Me Want to Stay

by isoldembd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isoldembd/pseuds/isoldembd
Summary: Dean just doesn't understand why Cas would want to stay on Earth. Cas tells him why.





	You Made Me Want to Stay

A quiet evening, now a luxury; Sam away, Dean alone sitting at the wooden table, dim light harshing his face. Cas creaks the metal door open, his dress shoes clicking on the steps. It's night, maybe passed midnight, Dean lost track, the moonlight kissing the windows and illuminating the dusted books. Clutching his beer, Dean is more than lost in thought, he's in a different world. A problem-solving world, one where he can look at his newest puzzle and try to find the missing pieces. He goes there often. He looks tired, Cas thinks, but then again, he always looks tired.

 

The dim light casted from the lamp isn't for seeing, more so Dean isn't sitting in the dark. He looks up at Cas' face, sees him descending the stairs, looking the same. Another luxury, having a friend that doesn't age, a familiarity that you can run to when it all just gets too strange. He looks at Cas everyday, sometimes memorizing, other times searching. And every time he’s taken back to that night ten years ago in the barn. That thing that made the lights blow and couldn’t be killed, Dean feels that electric buzz tingling in his spine when he sees Cas’ face just like the first time. 

 

Castiel gently drags a chair out from under the table and quietly sits down across from Dean. He does this often. He just sits. He knows when Dean is asking for some company, he knows when Dean wants to talk and when he just wants to wallow for awhile. This is a time for wallowing, so Cas sits silent and waits for something, an invitation for conversation. 

 

They sit for a long time; once, Dean gets up to get another beer, then sits again, never checking his phone or opening a book; just, sitting. It’s nice for them. It’s not often they get to have true silence. Something is always threatening them, always knocking down their door and burning up their peaceful state of mind. It’s exhausting, the constant worrying. Naturally, Dean soaks up every second of this stillness so he can remember what it’s like to be calm for the next time he’s searching for a reason to keep going. And Cas can feel it radiating off of him in waves. It feels like sitting too close to a heater: it burns a little but it feels nice, warming you from the outside in. He can feel Dean’s tension, but in its own way it’s a comfort: it means that he’s still here, still alive and willing to fight for what he loves. It comes from a hidden place in a person’s mind, their heart, down from their soul. It’s a very human feeling, so very distinctly human; the act of weight bearing and struggling to breathe but not wanting to give in to the temptation of being swallowed by the water— human. 

 

Dean looks over and sees Castiel looking back, his blue eyes like the sea, and Dean drifts on them. Dean would never admit this but sometimes, when Cas talks, it sounds just like when you’re a kid and you press your ear to a conch shell and you swear you can hear the ocean. Sometimes Dean wishes he could fall asleep to it, have Cas lay beside him and whisper to him about anything, anything at all, his voice deep and quiet, gravelly, and send Dean into blissful sleep. How does a person ask for that? Some days, that’s what Dean thinks about when he’s sitting silent in his room. How do I ask Cas to whisper me to sleep? 

So, instead of asking, Dean dives deep into Castiel’s eyes, looking for answers? Usually, yes. But here, sitting amongst the dark corners, and listening to the vents push and pull the stale air around and around, Dean can see the very bottom of those deep blue eyes. He can see that buried treasure, and with it, the sunken sailors. He looks right into the eye of the storm and suddenly truth runs free. 

 

Castiel: angel with no wings, man with holy grace, the only constant Dean has ever had, is sitting here and telling Dean that nothing in this world could ever compare to the space between them. The few feet that separates them is close enough to make Dean’s arm hair stand on edge, close enough to make his stomach flip and his legs go numb. 

 

It’s bizarre, sitting here in silence like they’ve done so many times and to feel like the air is being sucked out of the room. 

What was so different about right now? The feeling of rain hitting his face and the smell of wet earth washes over him; it’s like he is 18 again with worries rolling of his shoulders and nothing but good waiting behind the curtain. Like Dean is standing in the middle of the street and all he can see is Castiel standing there, too, under the light of a streetlamp. Tunnel vision, all he can see is Cas and it’s the safest he’s felt in a long time. 

 

His beer sweats into his hand, the chair creaking softly under is shifting weight. Here, right now, this is real. Time will only pass, and soon this moment will be like any other if he doesn’t say something.

 

“Cas.” And Castiel’s eyes focus stronger on Dean’s and Dean can feel Cas opening the window and peeking over the ledge. “Why do you stay?”

 

At the question, Cas looks away, not in embarrassment, but in contemplation. Why does anyone stay for anything? The guilt? The responsibility? Or the fear? The fear of failure or the fear of never seeing one another again. The fear of disappointment or the fear of losing precious moments, ones that can never be made up. Maybe it’s all of these put together, Cas thinks, maybe it’s this tether around my waist keeping me from free falling into a hole that is so deep you swear you’re falling up. 

 

“Do you know what it’s like seeing the sunrise every single day for millions of years, Dean?” 

Dean stares and waits for him to elaborate. Of course he knows nothing of being an angel.

 

“You forget how truly magnificent it is. You watch it so many times. You watch it rise and set and rise and set… it just doesn’t move you anymore. It just becomes another star in the sky.”

 

Dean is starting to understand, maybe.

 

“I have always been amazed by humans, ever since my creation. My brothers and sisters would always say that I play with fire and one day I would get burned. But, when I came to Earth, and I met you, Dean… you showed me how to look up at the sunrise again. You made me realize how much I had been missing. The beauty of this place… it’s like none other in the universe.”

 

Dean leaned back in his chair, taking a swig from his lukewarm beer. Cas has learned to not assume what a Winchester would say, and to never hope for one thing or the other. Just to let them say what they need to say.

 

“But why  _ here _ , Cas. Why stay with us? All we ever get you is trouble. Don’t you want something more?”

 

A silly question to some. But a reasonable one. 

Cas squints slightly. Is this really what Dean thinks of himself? 

 

“Dean, what is a sunrise if it has no one to appreciate it?”

 

Dean shrugs and Cas gets out of his chair and picks one next to Dean instead. They face each other now, knees inches apart. He must get his point across, Dean must know what he’s been thinking since the day they met, since Cas ripped Dean out of Hell and showed him the world in color again.

 

“What am I if I don’t have a human to love?” 

 

And then they both go quiet once again, their natural state of being. A quiet that fills the room, but doesn’t suffocate it. A quiet that’s soft enough you can hear the clouds passing, comforting, soothing. Letting you know it’s okay to speak, but no one expects you to, like every word you have to say is an important one and that you shouldn’t waste breath on things you don’t mean. 

 

Dean places his beer on the table.

 

What does that mean? A human to love? What does an Angel of the Lord want to do with a fallible human like Dean Winchester who’s practically a walking curse for death and destruction?

 

Dean huffs out a harsh, bitter laugh. 

 

Castiel sighs. He knows that dark sound; it’s the sound of Dean not accepting the love others give him and deeming himself unworthy. It’s a familiar sound.

 

Words are not things that can easily penetrate the shields Dean puts around himself. They dent and scratch, but they do not get through. So Cas does what he knows how to do and that’s to wait and listen. He’ll open himself up to Dean and wait for Dean to peak around the corner, lower his shields and let everyone in on what he’s thinking.

 

In the meantime, Cas places his hand over Dean’s for a blink of a second to tell him, ‘ _ I’m here and that’s where I’ll stay.’ _

 

Dean looks up at Cas again and decides he’s too old for the bullshit. The bullshit of covering up feelings and lying to save everyone, the bullshit of pretending you don’t cry yourself to sleep some nights and drink to forget that this life you lead, it’ll never bring you joy. 

 

“Cas. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. You saved my damn life.” He shakes his head in disbelief of his own ridiculous life. God, what did he do to deserve getting pulled out of Hell and thrust into the arms of an angel. 

 

Dean leans forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, covering his face to add another barrier from his harsh reality. 

 

Cas watches, still, and sees the personal torment Dean puts himself through. It hurts to watch, but Castiel knows the feeling all too well. The many times he himself has bowed his head and tried to wrap his mind around how he’s been allowed to love such beautiful people, he knows just how you can drive yourself mad trying to answer that question. 

 

“Dean,” he says all too quietly, placing a warm, firm on Dean’s shoulder. 

 

Muffled through his palms, Dean lets out an exasperated sigh.

 

Castiel gets up and walks to the side of Dean’s chair, taking both hands this time and resting them on Dean’s back, squatting beside him to get as close to eye level as possible. 

“Nothing that you’ve been through has ever been your fault.” 

 

Dean folds his hands in between his knees still looking down as if asking the floor to swallow him whole. 

“I just don’t know anymore, Cas.” 

 

Cas rubs little circles around Dean’s shoulder blades. “It’s not your job to know. Given the cards you’ve been dealt, you’ve done more than anyone could have asked of you or Sam.” 

 

Dean turns his head to look at Cas’ sympathetic face and decides he’s done wallowing for the night. He stands up, Castiel following as Dean strides into the kitchen. 

“Have a drink with me.” 

 

Dean reaches into a cabinet, gets two glasses in one hand clinking them together, and grabs a half empty bottle of whiskey pouring it into the glasses and sliding one over to Cas. 

 

They sit at the metal table and drink, Cas drinking too because he knows now is not a time to refuse Dean. He despises the taste, but giving Dean the solace of sharing something in a still moment is the least he can offer. 

 

~~~

 

2 hours and many drinks later, Dean’s lips are loose and Castiel knows he’ll have to keep what is said right now locked away in his memory. 

 

“...and that was the time I caught poor lil’ Sammy stickin’ it in the librarian! God, he couldn’t look me in the eye for a whole month after that.” 

 

Cas chuckles. It’s good to see Dean in high spirits even if he is a little drunk. There’s something about the way Dean’s eyes crinkle at the sides, like rays from the sun, it makes Cas want to give him the whole world and not apologize for it. He would give Dean anything, more than he has already; his home, his wings, his grace, he’s left them all behind— gladly— just so he can see Dean smile. Some may call him foolish— they already have, but Cas knows that staying on Earth and protecting this human right here telling him drunken stories about happier times, he makes it worth everything. 

 

“You look a little constipated there, Cas. What’s that face for?”

 

Cas searches Dean’s eyes for a moment. “I’m just thinking.”

 

“‘Bout what? How you’d rather be hanging up in Heaven with the other wing rats?”

The bitter jokes. Another brick to the wall Cas is always trying to break down.

 

“Why do say things like that, Dean?”

 

Dean slams his glass down and looks dead in Cas’ eyes, not joking anymore. “Say what, Cas? What I’m thinking? Because ever since you pulled me outta the pit I’ve been wondering what fuck is keeping you down on this shitty planet where good people die, where there’s more suffering than not.”

 

“Dean, please.” Pleading never gets him anywhere with Dean, but he tries all the time anyway.

 

Dean gets up from his chair and walks around the room before standing with his back facing Cas. He’s thinking of what he can possibly say to make Castiel just  _ understand _ . 

 

“No. No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to go all puppy eyes and act like  _ I’m _ the bad guy. ‘Cause I already know that I am, Cas! I already know…”

 

This is enough. Enough self-loathing and pity, Cas can’t take it anymore. Every self-deprecating comment, it’s like a punch to the ribs and Cas won’t stand by while Dean tears himself down. Not anymore.

 

“Stop it, Dean!” They both whirl around to face each other. Cas stands up and strides right into Dean’s space, personal boundaries be damned. “You want to know why I’m here? And why I stay here with you and Sam?”

 

Both of them breathing hard from their frustration; frustration of both of their misunderstanding. Dean not understanding that Cas would rip the stars from the night sky if Dean said he liked the way they sparkled. Cas not understanding that Dean would never ask that of him, never wanting him in harm’s way.

 

“I stay here because I love you. I love you, Dean!”

 

Confusion on Dean’s face at first, but then it’s like something clicks. Like all of a sudden every hard choice and regret he’s ever had all makes sense, like they’ve all been leading up to this very moment. This moment where a millions old angel is standing before him and professing his love and Dean has never felt such a feeling of certainty, surety, calmness. It just all makes sense.

 

And nothing makes more sense than grabbing Cas by the waist and kissing him until he swears he can taste Heaven. This is the moment where everything changes, but stays exactly the same; protecting each other, loving each other, devoting every breath to each other, this kiss is just another way they tell each other the world begins and ends with them.

 

Cas puts his hands on Dean’s hollowed cheeks and feels as both of their worries come rushing together, a stream amidst a forest, their waters mixing and melting into one another, and then washing away. 

 

If Dean is the sun and Castiel is the moon, this is their eclipse, never having to chase each other in circles anymore, they finally have their convergence where they can illuminate as one.  

 

They separate, leaning their foreheads together, breathing in unison. 

 

Dean speaks first in a hushed voice, “I didn’t know I’ve been waiting for that this whole time. I kinda’ wish you woulda’ said something earlier.”

 

“I didn’t know I needed to.”

 

Dean lets out a breathy laugh and leans back to look at Cas’ flushed face. “Yeah, I guess I was the one not paying enough attention.”

 

~~~

 

It takes Dean several more months before he musters the courage to say ‘I love you’ back, but when he does, Castiel knows why the sun rises in the morning: to shine on Dean’s face. Life has meaning, and now Castiel knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you liked this it would be awesome if you checked out some of my other works!!!!!! Love you guys xoxo


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